


Electromagnetic

by bexacaust



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:21:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6972631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexacaust/pseuds/bexacaust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I tried to resist it, your strange computer soul<br/>{Follow that fantasy sound.}</p>
            </blockquote>





	Electromagnetic

There was a certain joy in being the last one back home.

Jazz moved as silently as he could; the floor not even scuffing as his pedes took their carefully planned steps. A door shut without a sound, the soft hum and whirr of an idling vidscreen.

Jazz exhaled softly, moving farther into the quarters until he came to the ajar door that hid their berth and private room.

Carefully, he pushed it open, and felt his vents catch.

Prowl sprawled in recharge; something he had found out the hard way. It was cute, knowing that the perfectly collected and always at attention TacHead could be loose limbed and gangly as the rest of them.

But Jazz didn’t expect this. Even after all this time, he swore it could stop his spark’s eternal whirl.

Prowl sprawled, half tangled in a berthcover like a Renaissance painting. The swell of his hip was outlined in the soft and thin fabric, and his midsection had a graceful motion to its lines even as the TacHead was still in sleep. Arms draped out over the pillows, doorwings against the berth’s padded top and twitching in his dreams.

Jaz moved closer, afraid to make the slightest noise. He swallowed hard, exventing as carefully as he could.

Prowl moaned in his sleep, body shifting again. The cover pulled farther down, draped over his pelvis to show the nip of his waist and the flare of his frame and Jazz swore his legs started to shake. The Praxian yawned, back arching off the berth in a stretch before he settled again. A hand draped over his midsection, servos barely curled.

Jazz bit his knuckle and moved still closer.

“Prowler?”

No answer.

Jazz reached out, putting a splayed hand upon the lower section of Prowl’s abdomen, letting his servos ghost over hairline transformation seams.

Plating rippled from the tickling sensation, and Jazz hooked the berthcover with two servos and pulled.

It slid away from Prowl’s body, making the slumbering figure shiver. 

The glow of lowlit optics.

“Mn. Jazz?”

“Ye, its me.”

“Hmm… come to berth.”

Jazz forced his legs to steady at the purr in Prowl’s voice. The hand holding the cover let it drop from a nerveless grasp before once again moving to ghost over that smooth plating. 

Prowl’s engine idled like a purring cougar.

Jazz felt himself pulled to the berth by… something, not Prowl’s hands, not his own power but something real and raw and there.

He sank to the berth beside the almost lewdly lounging TacHead, unable now to stop touching every sloped curve and smooth span of white and black.

“Mnn, keep touching me like that and we won’t be sleeping much tonight.”, chuckled Prowl, shifting to lay fully on his back and stretch again like a lazy feline. He felt Jazz’s gaze rove over his figure before the Praxian grinned.

Jazz looked at him, helplessly enthralled, “Nah Prowler, don’t say things like that. Y’know what it does t’me.”

“Mmhm. I do indeed.”

Jazz looked away, trying to reign in the sudden and sharp rise of his core temperature.

“Jazz.”, said Prowl softly, his words like a Balm of Gilead on a sinner’s soul, “Come to me.”

“Ah’m here.”

“Then come _have_ me.”

A whine slid from Jazz’s vocalizer that cracked into a groan when the click of paneling sliding away sounded into the night-dimmed berth.

“Killin’ me.”

“You love it.”


End file.
